


The Artist Known as Prompto

by RikkuShinra



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Art, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-05 19:04:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19046512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RikkuShinra/pseuds/RikkuShinra
Summary: Noctis loves the art that he and Prompto make together. He loves it so much he wishes to share with the world, so he does. Prompto, on the other hand, is a bit taken back that it's so popular. If only the people knew.





	The Artist Known as Prompto

**Author's Note:**

> After reading yeaka's [Cookie-Jar](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915940) it reminded me of something I had heard years ago where a guy painted pictures with his penis.

He can hear the hushed whispers of the gallery patrons oohing and awing at splatters of paint, thick lines and messy smears that are just so embarrassing that he can’t believe Noctis is just holding this stupid opening. And for what? Prompto smiles into his champagne glass as another patron of the arts congratulates him before an auctioneer darts over to announce his ‘Blue Prance in Blossoming Fields’ has just sold for one hundred million yen to a museum in Tenebrae.

Prompto knows the work is spotty, but it’s not the horrible names he and Noctis spent an hour planning from some random name generator, that pushes people to spend their money. He’s no Van Gogh he’s not particularly tortured, well in one painting he was, but—Prompto nods his head to a passing couple thoughts fluttering away like his heart as he sees the auctioneer give him another thumb up. They had bought the rights to ‘Ifrit’s Dalliance,’ it hides within its mixture of red and black, amongst the spots of greys and blues deep in its dark hues his face, but they don’t know that. They think it’s a masterpiece, ingenious strokes by a deeply troubled artist. He remembers that night and the crack of a riding crop against supple flesh held by a hand that came down to heavy.

He shivers and someone asks if he is cold. They offer to get him a jacket, anything. It’s refused.

What is selling this monstrosity is the fact they come from the Prince’s ‘Personal Collection.’ Like Noctis knows artwork. His personal collection is a plethora of comic books that have dusty jackets, band, and video game posters, some vintage others newer and mainstream, and garbage when Ignis hasn’t come over.

They fill this gallery with indecent paintings, a majority he was the tool and Noctis the architect. “Having fun?”

Prompto nods, taking another sip from his flute. “Oh yes, I enjoy watching people walk out with pictures I painted with my dick.”

Noctis hums. “I think you did an excellent job.” He turns then crowding Prompto into the corner, “people love your painting style,” Prompto flushes crimson, his hand coming to rest over the one Noctis has on his hip stilling the Prince’s thumb as it strokes over the seam of his pants. “They want more, each one of these has sold.”

Noctis is so close Prompto can smell the sandalwood undertones in his perfume and alcohol he has been drinking. “We should get on that right away.” 

**Author's Note:**

> 100% of the proceeds where donated to various charities throughout Insomnia.


End file.
